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LayEd Cerulean Journal 1
Cerulean T'K'Nchtlkt woke with the rising sun as he had every morning since coming to Jerris almost 3 years ago. Trudging out of the ditch in which he spent the night, he began to make his way into the town center to renew his fruitless quest. Silently, Cerulean swore at himself Why did you back down, you dishonorable coward? Why didn’t you fight? To die in one on one combat is an honorable death, one that certainly is preferable to this wretched existence… He produced a small well-worn piece of paper from his pocket and sighing to himself, unfolded it. He read it to himself as he had be instructed to do: “For your cowardly refusal to accept the legitimate challenge of K'stano the Bold you have brought shame and dishonor upon yourself. You will travel to the Western ends of the Barsaive and there you must seek the forgiveness of no fewer than 1,000 of your fellow T’skrang. Until this time your shame shall be evident to all as you will refuse all food save enough to sustain you, wear clothes only to cover your nakedness, and you shall not bathe nor swim allowing the dust of the road to cover you.” He hung his head in shame, tucking the yellowing paper back into his pocket and muttering to himself. After three years he had only been able to convince nine hundred and ninety nine of his fellow T’skrang to forgive him, most of which were in the first two years. It had been nearly three months since he had last seen a new T’skrang face and he was beginning to give up hope of ever regaining his honor. He was feeling exceptionally sorry for himself as he turned the corner and *WHAM* he collided with someone. “A thousands pardons to you M’Lord…” he had begun to say when he suddenly realized that the person with whom he had collided was not just another T’skrang but was one whom he had never seen before. “By Aal'visss, you should really watch where you’re going!” said the stranger. “I nearly drew my sword on you!” “M’lady, I… Uh…” Cerulean was nearly speechless with shock but before he could say anything else, the stranger interrupted him. “Oh, but you’re one of those poor crippled T’skrang my chaida told us about… Pale Ones isn’t it?” Without waiting for a response, she continued, “It’s so terrible to think that there’s an entire group of T’skrang who are just blind as a bat, having to live underground like that. Never being able to come to the surface… Er well I suppose rarely coming to the surface. You poor pitiful thing.” She rummaged through her coin purse and produced a silver coin. Placing the coin into Cerulean’s hand she spoke loudly and slowly, “HERE, THIS IS A SILVER COIN. YOU CAN USE IT TO PURCHASE GOODS OR SERVICES!” and then she patted him on the head and began to walk away. Cerulean blinked and looked down at the coin and then up at the stranger. It took him a moment to recover from the strangeness of the encounter but he called out as he followed after her. “M’Lady! Please don’t go! I have something I need to ask… OOF!” he tripped over an unseen rock in the street and fell. The stranger stopped and turned around. “You shouldn’t try to run when you can’t see! I’d have thought you would have learned that by now…” she said helping Cerulean back onto his feet. “And my name is D’zurr Ss’isha Aalvisuul not ‘M’Lady’.” “Please, hear me out Jaw D’zurr. I have something to ask of you.” (Note: “Jaw” is the T’skrang honorific equivalent of Lord or Lady.) The stranger paused a moment and smiled, saying “Of course I’ll listen to what you have to say, but there’s no need for such formalities.” Cerulean took a deep breath and began the speech, which he had given so many times over the last three years, hoping that this would be the last. “Woe am I! For I have brought great dishonor upon myself. I have shamed myself and my family in the eyes of The Great Dragon. I have made a mockery of his teachings and made myself unworthy of his great blessing. I have refused honorable combat for selfish and inadequate reasons. Further, I denied my own dishonor compounding my shame further. I have not bathed, nor eaten good food, nor worn proper clothing lo these last three years in order to atone for my dishonor. I have sought the forgiveness of forty-nine score and nineteen of our fellow T’skrang and need but one last grant of forgiveness to restore my honor. Oh please great and honorable T’skrang warrior I beg of you to grant me, who is unworthy of such, your forgiveness.” (Note: In the T’skrang dialect with which Cerulean speaks, the word for forgiveness is “tat’lith”. This is phonetically very similar to the standard T’skrang word for blessing, “tat’leth”. Standard T’skrang for forgiveness is “tuh’tah”.) Cerulean hung his head down and waited for her response. Many times those whose forgiveness he sought had simply walked away without saying a thing, and once even he received a swift kick to the chest. D’zurr paused for dramatic effect before saying “Well of course Aal'visss would give you his tat'leth, you poor blind earthworm! What is your name dishonored one?” “My name is Cerulean T'K'Nchtlkt my Lady.” D’zurr placed her hand on Cerulean’s head and as spoke as officially as she could manage. “Did Aal'visss not say in the Book of Perkins ‘You can burn my house, you can steal my cart, you can drink my wine from Old Frut’jar. You can do anything but lay off of my blue suede shoes?’ It is as true today, as when it was written! So stand tall warrior and lift your tail with pride! Do this and your honor will be restored. ” Cerulean remained still for a moment as he desperately attempted to make sense of what this strange woman had just said. He rose to his feet, doing his best to comply with her cryptic instructions. Then all at once, he felt a rush of power and the knowledge of The Great Dragon returning to him. Trembling he looked up and into D’zurr’s eyes. Suddenly he embraced her and began to weep tears of joy. “Oh thank The Great Dragon! I now see the path before me with eyes anew! Once again I am filled with his wisdom!” He released D’zurr and took a step back. By this time a small crowd had gathered out of curiosity and Cerulean turned to them “I am again whole! Huzzah! I will not forget this, D’zurr Ss’isha Aalvisuul, I will repay your kindness to me a thousand fold!” And with that, he ran off towards the western outskirts of the city his cries of joy audible for some time. D’zurr stood a little shocked, covered in dirt and dust and smelling not altogether very pleasant following Cerulean’s embrace. “By my word!” she said aloud to no one in particular, “The power of Aal’visss has granted that poor wretch his sight! It is truly a miracle!” With this, the crowd began to murmur amongst themselves until someone asked aloud “What’s an ‘Al-Viss’?” D’zurr cleared her throat and replied “I’m glad you asked!”